A night of love
by Seductiveglamour456
Summary: So, my first bit of Johnlock. Based on the BBC's version of Sherlock. Rated M for EXTREME smut! Sort of meant to be smut/romance. You like? Review, I'll do more!
1. Chapter 1

John sat in the armchair lazily, precariously balancing a mug of tea- Sherlock had remembered to _buy_ something at the shop this time- in his right hand and holding up the newspaper in his left. He sighed a melancholy sigh; '**3 DEAD IN BOMB BLASTS**' read the headline. He sometimes wished he could just have died back in Afghanistan, to save having to endure the agony of knowing he had gotten out and people decades younger than him were still dying.

Sherlock was in the kitchen staring intensely down a microscope looking at- what John believed to be- sperm of a badger. He wore his normal slim cut suit, his wavy locks effortlessly suave and sophisticated. And John realised, for the first time, he was attracted to Sherlock. He, Doctor John Watson was attracted, mentally, physically and emotionally, to Sherlock Holmes. He had always thought himself asexual, but suddenly, there was this spark, and it was developing quickly into a flame.

"What's happened now?" Sherlock asked offhandedly, still examining the glass plate.

"Uh, just stuff. About the war." John realised how much he sounded like a teenager being asked how their day at school was, but he couldn't help it.

"Pointless exercise. If people want to fight for their country, an intellectual debate could do worse damage than most bullets" John exhaled heavily. He loved it when Sherlock talked intellectually.

"Well, not _pointless_, so much as unnecessary." Countered John. He didn't think he could have bared it if they stopped talking.

Sherlock then surprised John- and he suspected, Mrs Hudson if she had taken to listening behind the door again for bullet shots- by saying "I'm sorry."

"What?" John was mystified.

"I forget that you were once one of those fighting for this country. Accept my humble apology. I guess social graces never were my forte. Mycroft was the one for that." Sherlock looked up from his microscope to see Jon walking towards the kitchen-lab, really- towards him.

"John, may I kindly as-" Sherlock only got this far before John grabbed his defined cheekbones and hauled him up with arousing strength and held him against the kitchen cabinets and kissed him. John couldn't help but laugh into his mouth; Sherlock's inexperience shined through as he stumbled awkwardly backwards and didn't open his mouth. For a while.

But then, oh glorious heavens, Sherlock fully embraced John and granted access to his silky, slick mouth. They broke the kiss and stared into each other's eyes and panted. Sherlock's piercingly blue irises seemed to send John a message; take me.

John took the capable, long hand and led him into his bedroom. Sherlock looked astoundingly British, looking down at the bed as if it were some kind of complicated metaphor. John gently lowered himself and his equal down onto the velvet sheets and continued to explore his mouth. Then he saw and felt Sherlock's member poking into his thigh. Incredible it may have been, but Sherlock had an erection. And, so far, so did John.

Breaking the kiss, Sherlock said, breath-taken, "I've never really done anything like this before so w-would you mind if….um…..well, if you could-"

"Shhh," John held a finger up to Sherlock's moist mouth. "I'll be gentle."

And carefully, respectfully, the doctor slid of his plaid button-up and undid Sherlock's formal jacket, threw it to the floor, and did the same with the crisp white shirt underneath.

It couldn't be denied that John had a better body, in the _fitness_ area. Years of military training and hard grind had helped him develop a nice, defined chest with a toned six-pack. Sherlock, however, kept a good diet, and despite all the cabs he took, had a neat, trim figure, not fit, so to speak, but comfortable.

John kissed down Sherlock's neck, shoulder bones, stopped to lick each pale pink nipple, gaining satisfying and erotic moans from the sociopath's deep voice, before sliding down to Sherlock's crotch. He was now on his knees before Sherlock, who by now had a reddened, passionate expression on his face. He smoothly whipped of Sherlock's belt and then undid his trousers. Sherlock was wearing tight black boxers, with a huge tent where his at least 9-inch cock was rubbing against the constricting fabric. Quick as a flash, John grabbed the boxers with both hands and ripped them apart with furious passion. Sherlock's cock slapped against John's cheek while John threw the tattered underwear to the floor. John was immensely impressed.

Sherlock was breathing deeply, long, staggered breaths, out of lust and arousal. John licked up his member, slowly and coquettishly, teasing him.

"Ohh, John, yes!" Sherlock was turning his head and grabbing at the soft sheets in delirious heaven. John continued his teasing by gently rubbing the uncircumcised cock up and down with his hand. Sherlock now looked on the verge of pain from prolonged foreplay, so John popped the 9-inches into his mouth and started sucking quickly. Sherlock immediately started thrusting up into John's mouth, while screaming his name louder and louder. After ten minutes of John sucking in motion with Sherlock's thrusting while rolling Sherlock's balls around in his hand, Sherlock's body went rigid for five seconds.

"O-oh John I fee-el something, oh oh OH!" Sherlock gave one final huge thrust before spurting his hot white seed all over John's waiting face. The cream covered the military man's face as he carefully licked at the corners of his mouth. Sherlock was sweaty and tired, and curled up into a ball almost immediately, exposing his tight pink hole to John. But John refused his urges. Right now, he wanted to be with the man he loved. He crawled up beside Sherlock and wrapped his arms around his lover's waist and just lay with him, quiet and calm, listening to Sherlock's levelled, even, seductive breathing.

"John?" Sherlock's timid voice asked.

"Yes Sher-… honey?" The two men both smiled at this.

"When can I… well…" Sherlock was adorably nervous.

"Don't worry my love," John's voice was reassuring and warm. "It's not even 9 o'clock yet. Let us sleep, and when we are both recovered, we can…..take things further."

At 10 that evening, Mrs Hudson came into the bedroom to check for unclean pots-she wasn't a housekeeper, but she had _standards_. She saw Sherlock and John curled up together, on the bed, sleeping peacefully. She closed the door and wandered back through the kitchen.

"Ooh yes," She muttered while picking up John's now-cold mug of tea. "You get all sorts living 'round here."


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock opened his eyes sharply; he always woke up wary of what was around him. But he relaxed instantly, as memories of the evening before flooded his mind. Shocked, he looked at the clock. Half past one in the morning. Sherlock smirked, as much as it was possible for his face to resemble a smirk and thought 'Only for John.'

There was a clink from the kitchen, and Sherlock managed to sit up, realizing he was completely naked, and see John walk cautiously through the door wearing his red briefs- he was soft, Sherlock noted- and the frankly odious jumper he had bought for Christmas. The Doctor set down his mug on the bedside table and wordlessly gave Sherlock another. The detective sipped and burned his tongue.

"Aah!" Sherlock pulled away from the liquid (which he now realized was hot chocolate) and nearly dropped his mug, but managed to lay it down on the floor before looking up to the caring look of John's eyes. Like the typical military man he was, John was now sitting cross-legged across from Sherlock with a First Aid kit on his lap.

"Open up you silly man!" John held open Sherlock's mouth and inspected it with his eyes. "You might not know we revolve around the sun, but the mechanics of hot and cold was something that, I must admit, I thought you might have considered learning. Good. Nothing too serious my love." John closed the First Aid kit and slipped it under the bed. There was a moment between Sherlock and him once he had regained posture on the bed, when they both looked at each other and saw what they had always wanted to see in their eyes, even if they didn't know it; love.

John raised his soft right hand to the pale and smooth skin of Sherlock's cheek and held it there affectionately. He allowed himself a smile as he rubbed his hand against the beautiful softness of the other man's cheekbone. Did Sherlock _ever _grow facial hair? The Doctor got on his knees on the bed and kissed Sherlock's forehead affectionately. He then hugged Sherlock's head for what Mrs Hudson may have considered an 'indecently' long time, burying his face in the wavy locks. Mind you, John thought, indecent barely covered the happenings of yesterday evening.

"John," Sherlock's muffled voice vibrated against John's chest "Get off me." John laughed at the bluntness developed out of decades of social exclusion, and rolled back onto the bed so his head was at the pillows. Surprising himself, Sherlock crawled up to John's chest in an attempt to be seductive. Whether it had worked or not, the militant man's hand stroked Sherlock's head as he rested on John's chest.

"John?" He whispered.

"What is it dear?"

"Will you tell me a story?"

John almost couldn't believe what he was hearing. Sherlock Holmes, of 221B Baker Street, was lying with him, naked, in bed, asking for a story. From what John could gather, the love they both shared for each other had pierced through the façades of formality they were both so insistent on and let their personalities reveal themselves. John had a quick sip from his hot chocolate, and began.

"Once upon a time, there was a man who didn't love anybody, and this man met another man, and these two men realised that they shared a bond, a sort of… magical bond-" Sherlock gave a vague 'tsk'. Even in this delirium, he disapproved of talk of magic.

"And these two men realised, after a few months that this bond was called…" John grew a tear in his eye and said "These two men were…" Concerned, Sherlock rolled up and straddled John's knees.

"Yes, John?"

John sniffed and looked his lover straight in the eye; "I love you Sherlock."

And there it was, out in the open, out in the air, floating in space for the two of them to examine. Sherlock bent down so his face was inches from John's and said "I love you John."

They stayed like that for a long time, gazing, lost yet found in each other's eyes. That was, until Sherlock felt John's erection poking through the sheet at his tight virgin arse.

"John, I've never really….well-" Sherlock seemed worried by something. John grabbed him by the temples and kissed him tenderly.

"It's fine Sherlock. Just do what I did." John kept his tone even and calm. He didn't want to have sex with Sherlock. He wanted to make _love_ with Sherlock.

Sherlock stood up and slipped the bed sheet off his figure and stood before John, completely naked, and already hardening. John helped take off the jumper and lay back, breathing with anticipation, as Sherlock peeled back the duvet and removed his red briefs with a trembling hand. John was slightly smaller than Sherlock, probably about 8.7-inches, but nevertheless evidently throbbing. Sherlock's hand was still trembling, so John took it in his and told Sherlock to look into his eyes.

"Relax honey. You know you don't have to do anything you don't want to." Sherlock smiled and reassured John that he wanted to do it, but thought he'd do it wrong.

"As long as you do it, I don't care how it feels!" John explained. And with that, Sherlock popped the whole hard cock into his mouth.

John saw stars. Sherlock may have been inexperienced but untalented he was not. He immediately began deep throating John with unprecedented enthusiasm, up and down and up and down, not violent or aggressive, but out of love and passion. He slobbered and licked up the shaft and sucked each hairy ball and began stroking John's cock while it was still in his mouth. John's eyes were closed and he moaned loudly and strongly. Sherlock was moaning too, but was muffled by the hot, hard mound of flesh repeatedly thrusting into his mouth.

"Ah, oh Sherlock, I love you!" John moaned, happy and joyous, in erotic glory. "OH, Sherlock, I think I might-" Sherlock stopped before John could go any further. He climbed up to the Doctor's face and whispered, sensually romantic, "John, I want you to be inside me."


End file.
